The Marionette
by Ziva- Zia- Z
Summary: She was a doll, a fragile little thing, as precious as porcelian, and as controlled as a ventriloquist's dummy... that she was named, The Marionette. In honor of Halloween.
1. Chapter 1

**The Marionette **

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Summary: She was a doll, a fragile little thing, as precious as porcelian, and as controlled as a ventriloquist's dummy... that she was named, The Marionette.**

The cool summer breeze rustled the curtains of the open window. Downstairs, music and laughter could be heard as the dinner party continued. Light, lithe footsteps were heard on the stairs, a conversation, its subject forgotten, wafted down the stairs. The door opened, and the owner of the footsteps slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind her. She went to the vanity and took a seat, staring at her reflection before picking up her hairbrush and running it through the long, ebony strands.

Rain began to beat against the roof, the summer breeze turned to raging wind, a storm took over, drowning everything in sight. She hummed softly to herself, inhaling the fresh scent of rain as it hit the floor of her room. A sudden burst of thunder sounded and lightning split the sky, and in the dark, she saw her reflection. The second time lightning made its appearance, so did the man- standing behind her, a rope in his grasp.

She stopped her song, her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to scream, when he placed the rope in her mouth and yanked her off the vanity stool. The brush clattered to the floor, the stool was kicked over, and she struggled, reaching out for anything that she could find to stop him. The marionette doll she had recieved from her beloved grandfather for her tenth birthday fell from her nightstand, the last witness of her situation as he climbed out of the window and forced her down the trellis. The burst of thunder hid any screams that might have alerted anyone to her plight. By the time her parents went up to bed, she and her captor were long gone into the night.

Once they were out of the city, he knocked her unconscious and shoved her into the cart he'd left behind in the cornfield. Covering her with the rotting blanket he'd left in the cart, he picked up the ends handles and hurried out of the city. Late night passersby ignored him, those stupid enough to confront him- usually drunks- regretted it instantly, as he first slit their throats and then knocked them unconscious, leaving them in the road where they stood.

Eventually, he made it to the train station, loaded himself and his precious cargo onboard, and rode to his homeland. He'd spent weeks in the City, in Gillikin, in The Glikkus, searching for the next suitable candidate for his newest project. That led him to Center Munch. After seeing the beautiful young daughter at a party in Gillikin, he decided that she was perfect. He'd followed her and her family home. And he'd waited outside her window, waiting for the perfect opportunity-

For her to come out back.

For the maid to open a window in her room.

And once that window was open, he'd scaled the trellis and slipped inside.

He'd waited for an hour, could faintly hear the laughter and music from downstairs, before finally hearing the soft tread on the stairs. Her soft, lilting voice carried to him in the darkness of her closet, and he shivered with anticipation, finally hearing the door open and shut softly. Her voice could be heard coming from near the vanity, and when he slipped out of the closet, he heard the rhythmic brushing as the bristles ran through her raven hair. He'd seen the look of fright on her face as lightning split the sky, alerting her to his prescence. He'd seen her open her mouth to scream-

And he'd shoved the rope into her mouth, tugging on it.

It had been enough to warn her to keep quiet, but that didn't stop her from struggling as he pulled her from the vanity stool towards the open window. The muffled screams that escaped her mouth were drowned out by the thunder overhead, giving him a cover as he pulled her through the window and forced her down the trellis. She'd broken free when they reached the ground, but he'd grabbed her around the waist not long after and clamped a hand over her mouth.

"You wouldn't want me to go after your _precious_, disabled sister, would you?"

Though he couldn't see her eyes, the fear was evident, in how she whimpered, in the way she pulled way from him, in how she gave up...

Sacrificing herself for her sister.

How noble.

After she relented, it had been easy, taking her from the house to the cart he'd stashed in the cornfield. But once there, she'd somehow changed her mind, and bit him, causing him to let go. She made a run for it, stumbling into the dirt. He'd seen his chance, grabbed the rock he kept in the cart, and went to her. She looked up at him with pleading fear in her beautiful blue eyes. She put her arm up to block the blow, and screamed. He yanked her arm away and struck her once in the head, hard. Then, he'd picked her up and carried her back to the cart.

As they made their way to the train station, she'd woken up and screamed, a feeble attempt at help. Realizing he'd be caught with the daughter of the most powerful man in the country if discovered, he took her off to the side of the road, and struck her several more times in the head.

The rock, now covered in her blood, lay next to her body as he pushed the cart through the grasslands towards the old, abandoned factory. With his new prey in hand, he was ready to start his most desired project.


	2. Chapter 2

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Question: It's Elphaba right? **

**Answer: Who do you think it is?**

**Question: And the blue eyes are just creative liberty? **

**Answer: Of course, just like the aquamarine eyes in _Journey On_**

**Thanks to AWickedDistraction, kym667103 and EmZ711 for reviewing 1.**

She awoke to a throbbing pain in her temple. Gingerly, she reached up and felt her forehead. Dried blood came off on her fingers, and she winced. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness surrounding her, and she realized she was alone. This was her chance to escape. But she soon discovered that her ankles were bound; she was chained to a stake, unable to remove the cuffs or walk around. As she struggled to free herself, a shadow fell over her in the dimly lit room.

Her head snapped up, and she stared into his eyes.

As he leaned down towards her, she got a glimpse of what he held in his hand, and screamed.

She no longer struggled; faint whimpers and sobs escaped her sewn mouth. Tears leaked down her cheeks; eventually, he dropped her into the claw-footed tub sitting in the corner. She cried out in fear, and lay within, unwilling to move but willing to die. He could see it in her eyes; she'd die to protect her little sister. Too bad she didn't know that that's what she would ultimately do.

He smiled at her, she whimpered and tried to back away. Her once bright blue eyes watched him as he went to a hospital tray. Silent, he picked up a hypodermic syringe and pressed the bottom in. Clear liquid spurted out of the needle, and he turned back to her. Her whimpers started up again, as he approached her, and once again, she tried to move away. With the quick movements of a cat, he knelt down and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her close. Then, he took the needle and, positioning it near her neck, began to inject her. Her muffled screams were heard by no one.

Her eyes opened; everything was fuzzy. She tried several times to move, but could only move her head back and forth in little movements. Her body felt stiff, almost like she'd been frozen in ice water for a week. When she tried to lift her leg, she couldn't; but the sound of something caught her attention, and she shifted her eyes. He was coming towards her, a scalpel in his hands. Unable to move, barely able to scream, she was only able to watch as he laid the tip of the scalpel at her navel, before slowly moving it up between her breasts. In one swift motion, he'd ripped her blouse off her of her, and worked the tip of the scalpel into her skin. A muffled scream of pain escaped her sewn lips and she arched her back- a spasm as he dug deeper, slicing into the bone. Blood trickled down her skin; when he'd dug deep enough, he then took a tube- long and thin- and inserted it into the hole before connecting it to something outside of the tub.

Her eyes shifted, and she caught flashes of something red flowing from her body through the tube and into the thing on the outside of the tub. She began to grow weaker, as what was- she now realized- her blood and fluids leaving her body through the tube, yet her mind was still sharp. She watched as he eventually removed the tube, stitched up the hole, and then picked up an ice pick. He then, proceeded to dig into her beautiful blue eyes. He removed them, replacing them with glass ones of the same blue shade. Then, he took her out of the tub, dressed her, and placed a bow in her ratty hair.

Once she was dressed, he began sewing the ropes that would help her move. Although she wouldn't need them all the time, they would be of use if she ever got out of hand. Once she was completely sewn together, he scooped her up and carried her into the life-size doll house he had built for his growing collection. He made his way towards the stairs, and once on the second floor, he went into an adjacent room, laid her on the bed, and then, with an almost tender brush of his fingers over her now porcelain cheek, he left her, closing the door and returning to his factory.

Satisfied that his latest project had become a success, he then proceeded to plan who his next victim would be. Certainly not the little sister- she had been all too willing to give herself up in order to keep her sister safe.

No, perhaps the redhead he had seen her embrace in the yard after they got home.

Yes, she would make a wonderful addition to his collection.

Redheads were so rare a find these days, he'd kill to get his hands on one.

Oh, wait, he did kill.

He'd almost forgotten.

The more he thought about it, the more appealing the redhead became. Of course, she couldn't be like her friend- there could only be one, but he could make her into something else. It wasn't that hard, after all, look at what he'd done over the last fifteen years. He'd made masterpieces- using living, breathing artwork. Artwork that moved and breathed, artwork to be admired for its ageless beauty.

Though he'd had to crack and break some of his creations, he always stitched them back up again, and somehow, it seemed to give them a... an even more beautiful appeal. He had had his way with several of his beloved creations, and would also do so with her, but not yet. No, not yet.

Back in the dollhouse, upstairs, she lay on the bed, lifeless, a prop in his collection. Moments of tense silence passed; he was gone. She was sure of it.

In the darkness of her room, her wide, blue glass eyes popped open.


	3. Chapter 3

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Question: This guy isn't Fiyero is he because it says your story is about Fiyero? **

**Answer: No, the guy isn't Fiyero.**

**Question: Would it be considered a bad thing that I loved it? **

**Answer: Not at all, I hope you do**

**Thanks to kym667103, Issa22 and EmZ711 for reviewing 2.**

"Now, what can any of you tell me about this article?" Silence met Dr. Dillamond. He waited, before finally picking a student out of the crowded class. "Miss Upland. What can you tell me about this article?"

The blonde in question looked up at him.

"Um... I... I don't know. It's a newspaper article. Or... rather a copy of a newspaper article."

The class erupted in laughter, and Dr. Dillamond sighed.

"No, Miss Upland. I mean the content of the article."

Another student raised her hand. "It's about the 1989 kidnapping of the Munchkinland Govenor's daughter, and the possible connections to one of Oz's most notorious serial killers."

"That's correct..."

"Who cares about some dead girl from the eighties or a serial killer?" The blonde turned to look at her boyfriend. "It's all stupid old stuff anyway. None of us were alive when it happened."

The boy in question slowly raised his eyes from the article.

"I was alive when it happened. I was only about five, but I was still alive."

"Oh, that's so sweet when you feign concern for something, Yero." She said, reaching up to cup his cheek, her blue eyes taking in his handsome features.

"I'm not feigning concern, Glinda. I remember watching the news; people were desperate to find her. They even suspected that she might be in the Vinkus." Glinda rolled her eyes.

"I doubt it. He probably cut her up and buried her. Her bones are probably rotting in some shallow grave as we speak."

"Why do you say that, Miss Upland?" The girl turned back to Dillamond. "What makes you think that?"

"Um... uh... we... well... it'd be e... easier to... to hide a body that way." She said, embarrassed that she'd been caught talking.

"While your theory is... simple, it's also incorrect. Police have searched, no unmarked, shallow graves have been found containing the girl's remains. It's as if she vanished into thin air-"

"Dr. Dillamond?"

"Yes, ShenShen?"

"What was the girl's name?"

He thought a moment. Instead of directly answering, he went to the podium and picked up the remote that controlled the slides. He pulled up a photograph of a young girl. She was sitting in the grass, a mansion behind her, her long raven hair falling around her in thick strands. Her harlequin green skin glowed in the light, and she stared at everyone with the bluest eyes they'd ever seen.

"This, is the Govenor's missing daughter- Elphaba Katila Thropp. She had just turned twenty-one when she disappeared. She disappeared after her birthday dinner. The last anyone remembers of her, is seeing her walk upstairs with her younger sister, Nessarose. They said goodnight and then Elphaba went upstairs to her room. When they went up to get her the next morning, she was gone."

"What happened to her?" A young man asked, raising his hand.

"No one knows. Not a scrap of clothing was found; no body. At first, they thought she was another Salia Merku case- taken by a radical group and held hostage until their demands were met. But no ransom demand ever came. No death threats, no taunts. She just vanished into thin air. Which brings me to my next point." He said, changing slides. Up on the screen, was the article he'd handed out to the class.

_COULD THE GOVENOR'S DAUGHTER BE A VICTIM OF THE MARIONETTE MURDERER?_

_POLICE are now beginning to speculate that there might be a connection between the man dubbed the 'Marionette Murderer' and the Govenor's missing daughter..._

"The Marionette Murderer was a serial killer that was abducting young women around the time Elphaba Thropp went missing. He was said to kidnap his victims, rape them, and then turn them into life-sized living dolls for his collection."

The class took in the photograph of the smiling young woman beneath the headline; it seemed unreal that she could be a victim of such a brutal man.

"They never found any evidence of his crimes taking place; after a while, the police started to doubt whether the Marionette Murderer actually existed. Eventually, they placed Elphaba Thropp's case into the cold files with all the other victims."

"Dr. Dillamond, how many women was the Marionette Murderer rumored to have killed?" A girl in the front row asked. He looked around at his students; he hoped, by telling them how many it was reported killed, that they would take this seriously.

"Over two-hundred. The Marionette Murderer was reported to have killed over two-hundred women at that time, and now, new victims are surfacing every day. And the Thropp family never loses hope that their daughter will be found."

He glanced at the clock on the wall. "Class dismissed. I'll see you all next week. Be sure to finish your papers and have them ready to turn in at the beginning of class tomorrow."

"What a riot, huh Yero? 'The Marionette Murderer.' He sounds so scary, doesn't he, Yero? Yero?" Glinda turned back to her boyfriend, but when he didn't respond, she rolled her eyes and left the classroom. Fiyero didn't hear her, nor did he care. He was too busy staring at the photograph of the Govenor's missing daughter.


End file.
